Once a Hunter
by Philote
Summary: Mary has good news to tell John. If only she could convince herself that it’s good. Spoilers for 4x03 “In the Beginning.”


Title: Once a Hunter

Author: Philote

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters/Pairing: Mary, John, wee!Dean

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of _Supernatural_ do not belong to me. I make no money from this story. Please don't sue.

Warnings: Spoilers for 4x03 "In the Beginning."

Summary: Mary has good news to tell John. If only she could convince herself that it's good.

Author's Note: Written for the 'cavort' prompt at Taming the Muse and my spn25 prompt #16, 'wait.'

oOo

Had the smell of scrambled eggs always been so sickening?

Mary adjusted the fire on the stove and swallowed hard against the nausea. She unconsciously laid a hand against her stomach.

John came up behind her, resting a hand on her back. "Still feeling sick?"

"A bit," she admitted.

"Go lie down. I've got this."

"Really?" she asked dubiously.

He affected an insulted look. "Yes, _really_."

She smiled, stepping back in surrender. "Okay, okay. I have total faith in your culinary abilities." She turned to address the boy who'd just bounded into the kitchen. "Dean, Daddy's going to fix your breakfast."

Dean glanced between them, little eyebrows furrowing. "Really?"

Mary choked on a giggle. John threw up his hands. "What is this, a conspiracy?"

Dean frowned. "What's a 'spiracy?"

John went to scoop Dean up, pausing to give Mary a brief kiss along the way. As he took Dean to the sink and attempted to explain the meaning of 'conspiracy,' Mary slipped away into the family room. She settled onto the couch with a slight groan, giving into the urge to wipe her lips.

It wasn't John's fault that she couldn't stand being kissed while she felt ill. She didn't know any woman who would enjoy making out while nauseous, but for her it tended to provoke memories. Flashbacks of her father's lips; of a deep, disgusting, life-altering kiss. The mere thought still turned her stomach.

Of course it was worse right now because the memories were fresh on her mind, having haunted her for the past few days. She almost longed for the days of her youth, the ones when she'd hated being trapped in the 'family business,' the time when she'd first loved John and believed that she might have a normal life.

She knew better now. Once a hunter, always a hunter. She might not be an active participant in the fight, she might have distanced herself as much as possible…but evil still hung over her. Part of her had always known it would, even as she made the deal. She'd made the selfish choice.

She could never tell anyone. She could only pray every night that her children would never have to learn her lessons.

Children. Plural. She still couldn't believe it; she'd been so careful.

Dean suddenly ran pell-mell through the living room, narrowly avoiding a collision with the lamp. Of course John was right behind him, cavorting with their three year old as if he weren't much older himself.

"Don't break anything!" she called after them, shaking her head even as she smiled indulgently. A few minutes later Dean was back, bouncing up onto the couch beside her and forcing her to catch him before he landed on her stomach.

He leaned close as John rounded the corner behind him, mocking out-of-breath huffs. "Daddy burned the toast," Dean confided in a loud whisper.

"Did he now?"

Dean nodded. "He said not to tell you, but I reminded him that we don't keep secrets."

John groaned theatrically, reaching in to scoop the boy up again. "Good to know we taught him well, I suppose." He dumped Dean on the easy chair across the room and reached to tickle his belly. Dean squealed, squirming and giggling.

Mary smiled as she watched them. John was so good with Dean, such a loving and attentive father. She knew he'd been ready for children since the moment they married. It had been her choice to wait, a choice she could never adequately explain to him. She told herself now that it had been stupid, that if she'd gone ahead her children would have been older and less helpless when the ten year mark rolled around. And now, she would have a defenseless baby in the house.

Truth be told, while she'd always wanted kids, she'd been too afraid to have young ones in the house where her ambiguous deal would someday come due. She'd ached to be a mother, but she could never justify endangering her children. As such, she'd essentially concluded that she could never have any.

Thus the first pregnancy had been decidedly unexpected. In fact, considering all the contraceptives, it was kind of a shock. But she could never, ever consider Dean a mistake. She couldn't imagine their lives without him.

He was her miracle.

John looked over at her and paused his wrestling game with Dean when he caught her expression. "What?"

She let a gentle smile spread across her lips. "Just loving you both."

Dean used his distraction to pounce on his back. John reached back to hold him secure as he stood, giggling child grabbing hold of his neck. "Well, we are awfully lovable."

She bit her lip, then dove in. "How would you feel about another one?"

John froze, eyes going wide. "Are you…that's why you've been sick?"

She nodded, trying to force the bittersweet tinge out of her smile.

He broke into a huge grin. Dean gave a startled squawk as he was abruptly swung around to his father's chest whilst John moved back to the couch. He bent to embrace her, Dean caught between them. "Honey, that's awesome. Unbelievably incredible!"

His enthusiasm was infectious. "I suppose you'd be okay with that, then?" she teased.

"Okay?!" He pressed another kiss to her lips, and this time she returned it.

"Daddy," Dean complained, squirming between them. "You're squishing me!"

They broke apart with a laugh, John moving back to settle Dean on Mary's lap. As they set about trying to explain the situation to their three year old, Mary tried to keep focused on her men. She knew she would love this baby as she loved Dean; knew that she could never regret the child once he or she had been born. But she also knew that wouldn't stop her fear.

You can't make deals with the devil and expect to walk away unburned. She didn't know exactly how, but she knew she'd pay. She prayed her family wouldn't.

The demon had said no one would be harmed. She clung to that. One problem—her knowledge of the supernatural kept creeping back, reminding her of one very simple fact.

Demons lie.

oOo


End file.
